Years ago post divorce from my starter marriage I was adrift in a sea of confusion, strippers and Dragon Ball Z. All I had was the running of my shop and my friends. A group of us all got memberships to a 24 hour gym with incredible amenities. Sauna, pools, hot tubs, free weights, cardio equipment and many other things that looked cool in the brochure but in reality I couldn't give a rat's ass about. It was a Winter night when my friend Big Ry and I decided we were going to knock back a six pack of beer before heading to the gym after the shop closed. He was running a couple of hours late because of domestic type things that he had to get done before being able to get to the shop which delayed our pre-work out beers. About half way through our energy drinks an ice storm started. We decided the best course of action at this point was to acquire more beer and just hang out. At around midnight when the roads and parking lot were covered with a thick layer of slippery iced death a familiar mini-van pulled into one of the parking spots in front of the shop. Big Ry was standing outside with me while I was smoking as this was happening and gave vocalization to what I was thinking at that moment. "Fuck, it's fucking Fat Gary!"
Let me press pause here and explain who Fat Gary is. Fat Gary is best described and corpulent, contemptible, overly polite, disease ridden and with an extremely under rated level of ignorance. He had to weigh between 400 and 500 pounds and had, among other rare health issues, a gum condition that allowed him to put pressure on the back of his teeth causing blood to flow down from his gums and over his teeth. He fell asleep one afternoon in the shop and had a sex dream. I know it was a sex dream because of the dirty talk , primal noises and pelvic thrusting that was occurring during said dream. I have yet to fully recover from seeing that. Now back to the story....
There was no reason for Fat Gary to assume that anybody would be at the shop. There was never a phone call to see if anyone would be there and no events scheduled to take place that night. Also factor in that there was a God damned ice storm raining frozen death on the city for the last three hours. The only solace that Big Ry and I could take from this ruining of of beer drinking was that we were guaranteed to witness Fat Gary slip, slide and die on the icy parking lot. We watched like little pubescent boys opening their first Hustler Magazine as Fat Gary pried himself from the driver seat of his mini-van. One leg at a time gingerly sliding one foot forward making his way across the parking lot and eventually to the safety of the side walk. I threw my half smoked cigarette into the parking lot in anger as I heard Fat Gary exclaim "My two favorite Ryans! I need some advice!"
"Jesus, why are you here?" asks Big Ry as I lead the sorrow train back into the unlit shop. Gary begins to tell us the tale of Gwendaleena (you tell me how the hell to spell that name!) Jones. Ms Jones is a lady whom FG is cheating on his live in girl friend with. Very graphic and nauseating details about sex acts performed in the mini-van and dollar movie theaters are given to Big Ry and I. Sweat soaked flesh stretched to it's breaking point across mountains of fat sticking to vinyl car seats. Organs being sucked upon until they are pruny from the saliva drenching in the back of theaters. It takes roughly an hour and a half of the mind numbing and disgusting story being told before Fat Gary finally asks us if he should leave his girl for GJ.
Like an angel or other benevolent spirit swooping in to save me from the double murder suicide I'm fantasizing about comes a knock on the shop's door. Remember, at this point it's nearly 2 AM and there is an ice storm. I walk to the front of the shop seeing a slight Indian man (Asian Indian people are for some reason a recurring theme in my life) wearing some kind of shipping company uniform and clutching a medium sized cardboard box. As I unlock the door I see a semi-truck parked in the middle of the lot. The door opens and he immediately begins apologizing for his late hour of arrival.
"Dude, what are you talking about?" I ask.
"Sir, I'm here with the shipment you have ordered. I am needing you to be signing on the clipboard and I will be giving you the (this part he whispers) diamonds."
"What?"
"You are Zales at North Landing Mall, yes?"
"Is that a box of diamonds?"
"Yes, your February order sir."
"Dude, you've made a mistake. Northland Mall is like two blocks that way. I don't know if they would have anybody there to accept the order now though."
"I can not leave it with here?"
"No, sorry dude."
"No apology needed sir. I should be the apologizing to you person one."
With that he slides his way back to his truck as I lock the door and begin walking back to Big Ry and Fat Gary. Big Ry is glaring at me in silence with his arms raised in the universal signal for "what the fuck dude?!?!" That's when it hits me. Fat Gary's story has shut my brain off to the point that I could have had a box of free diamonds and nobody would have ever known about it. My financial security and future could have been provided for. My worries and fears gone. My penis extension and hair plugs paid for. I sat down at the table, mouthed "I'm sorry" to Big Ry and put my head down for his ease of slapping the shit out of me which he did. Fat Gary breaks the post slapping silence with "So did I tell you Gwendaleena is white?" FML
